


Autumn in The Wind

by citrusyghost



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups-centric, M/M, Numbing Angst, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusyghost/pseuds/citrusyghost
Summary: This moment — he chased and ran away from all at once.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 63





	Autumn in The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the story I thought it would be when I started it at 2am last night.

The lights from the city cast a shadow against the bed when Seungcheol pulls himself from the mattress. He moves to grab his shirt off the floor and is on the third button when she stirs.

“Where are you going?” Her voice is sleepy.

“I can’t stay.” Seungcheol replies. His eyes stare out the ceiling to floor window — distracted by a train speeding past on elevated tracks. He hears the whirling even though he doesn’t.

“I’ll see you later?”

Seungcheol turns his head to look at the girl on the bed. The corners of his eyes crinkle but his lips don’t move.

He flicks his tie over his shoulder and offers a momentary glance before leaving.

It was cold before but it is colder now.

The moment Seungcheol leaves the apartment complex, the wind nips at his face. He lifts his head towards the sky and inhales. He should go home.

He should, but he finds himself in a nearby park on a metal bench. The cold sleeping through the material of his pants. Hand fumbling in his back pocket, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one.

Lips, curving over the stick — Seungcheol inhales.

It floods into his chest, invasive and unwelcome, but Seungcheol finds comfort in it nonetheless. Last autumn he was in a different park and the smoke in his lungs wasn’t his.

Phone to hand, he dials a number. It picks up after six long rings.

“Hey.” The voice is deep, familiar and Seungcheol catches a hint of concern that he smiles at. “Where are you?”

“Some park.” He chuckles into the receiver. “Fucking cold night.”

Although the background buzzes with noise, Wonwoo is silent for a moment. Seungcheol scrubs a hand against his cheek. He thinks he feels slight embarrassment rising on his cheeks but then again, it could just be the cold.

“Meet you at the same place?” Wonwoo‘s voice crackles over the line.

“Nah, I should go home.” Seungcheol sucks the smoke through his teeth before leaning forward, elbows to his knees. He presses the phone close to his ear.

The park is empty. It’s nice.

“I need a drink.” Wonwoo says.

Seungcheol stares at where his shoelaces are loosening and laughs. “Okay.”

“See you.”

Seungcheol listens to the line cut before staring at his phone. The dimly lit screen stares back at him until it finally blacks. He sighs, standing from the bench. One last inhale and then he’s digging his heel against the cigarette on the floor.

* * *

2:22am.

Wonwoo sends a quick text home as he pulls his coat over his shoulders.

 _Don’t wait up._

His phone _pings_ a few seconds later with a reply that makes him smile — _already asleep._

The work dinner had dragged on longer than he’d like it too. With these things, it was best to leave past a certain hour. If not for the insistent way his company was demanded, Wonwoo would have been home by ten.

He takes a cab down a few blocks and when it pulls up by a corner shop, Wonwoo sees a familiar figure already sat on a plastic stool — beer in hand.

For a moment he is so distracted he doesn’t hear the taxi uncle speaking to him. The image, vivid and sad.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo apologises with a half smile, pressing his card against the reader to pay. Then he’s pushing the door open and walking towards his friend.

“Like hell you need a drink.” Seungcheol scoffs when Wonwoo sits across him. “You reek.”

Wonwoo shrugs in response. It’s true, he does. He’s already had more than he’s comfortable with having. Still, he asks. “You going to get me a beer or what?”

The older man laughs, pushing a large bill towards him. “Get a few.”

Wonwoo takes it and lifts from his plastic stool. The chair scratches against the gravel. He watches Seungcheol take a swig of his beer before turning towards the store.

When he returns, he brings two piping hot cups of ramen balanced in his hands and three beers clamped under his armpit.

“What happened to drinking?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow.

“I’m fucking hungry.” Wonwoo slides one towards his friend. A pair of chopsticks not far behind. “If you won’t have yours I’ll have it.”

“Pfft!” Seungcheol grins, snatching his before Wonwoo can even try to take it back.

The snap of wooden chopsticks splitting — the chill of the night breeze. Wonwoo lifts the noodles to his lips and watches at Seungcheol does the same. Slurping. A breath releasing. The soup is piping hot.

His friend’s collar is undone.

“How was work?” Seungcheol asks, eyes inquisitive. Kind, sort of puppy-like but Wonwoo has never said it out loud.

He runs a hand through his hair and makes a face.

Seungcheol coughs a laugh, noodles in his throat. “That bad?”

“It’s alright.” Wonwoo waves a hand, “it’s just these work dinners.”

“Not really your speed, huh.”

“More yours, really.”

Seungcheol grins. “It’ll die down.”

“I don’t think it will.”

“It won’t. But past a certain point, you won’t care enough to show.”

Wonwoo raises his brows and blinks at his friend.

“It’s true.” Seungcheol says earnestly. He says it with his brows slanted downwards and Wonwoo feels inclined to agree with him.

“And you?” _How are you?_

Seungcheol slurps his soup, cheeks bulging. “What about me?”

The words that come to mind first, stop just before they leave Wonwoo’s lips. He swirls his noodles around. “How work?”

Seungcheol makes a noise from the back of his throat. “Same as the last time you asked.”

“Must be boring sitting at the top, Mr. Choi.” Wonwoo teases. “What’s it like having everything?”

His friend chuckles and before Wonwoo realises, his laugh fades. Seungcheol’s shoulders do a clumsy up and down as a quiet settles over their table.

“Hyung,” Wonwoo murmurs.

“What?” Seungcheol flickers his gaze up innocently. Completely oblivious to how the light in his eyes had dimmed at Wonwoo’s question.

Wonwoo opens a fresh bottle and slides it over to him. “What are you doing this weekend? Soonyoung is having a showcase. Probably the last for the year.”

“Jun too?”

“Not this one.” Wonwoo shakes his head. “But we’re going. Want to come?”

“Sure.” Seungcheol agrees easily. “When?”

Wonwoo hesitates. He’d asked expecting Seungcheol to decline. Not that he doesn’t actually want his friend to come. It’s just... it’s been a while since he has.

“Sunday, 4th.” Wonwoo says. A ripple on the water surface. Wonwoo doesn’t take his eyes off Seungcheol. He’s watching for something, anything. But the older man just nods.

“4th.” Seungcheol repeats. “Sure.”

* * *

Seungcheol has done far worse than drinking on a Tuesday night but for some reason, it feels like he had way more than the four measly beers Wonwoo allowed.

His head was pounding when he woke up and even though by 9am he’s had plenty of fluids and breakfast, the aching in his temples refuses to let up. He ignores it though, in favour of listening to Soonyoung being excited about him going to the showcase.

“You sure? You don’t have some very important documents to sign?”

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs. “What exactly is it that you think I do?”

“I don’t know, be important?” Soonyoung inflects on the last word as he jokes.

“If only that was the entire scope of my job.” Seungcheol snorts before asking. “How do I get tickets?”

“Oh, no, no. I’ll handle that. I just called to make sure Wonwoo wasn’t lying.”

“And why would he do that?

Soonyoung laughs over the line. Sunshine. “He wouldn’t. Just miss you, hyung. Looking for an excuse to bother you.”

Swirling in Seungcheol’s chest. Guilt bubbling. “Soonyoung—“

“Anyway, I’ll send you the address and all. It’s at the new theatre in town. We’re opening, cool huh?”

“Super cool.” Seungcheol echoes.

“Okay, gotta go.” He can hear Soonyoung’s smile. “See ya!”

“Be careful with your shoulder.” Seungcheol blurts.

“Yeah, yeah I know!” Soonyoung laughs.

And then the line cuts.

Seungcheol is in his office — high up on the 32nd floor, stunning view of the city but, alone.

* * *

At lunch, Seungcheol cancels his 1pm to light a smoke by the side of a 7/11 three blocks down from his office. He’s halfway through the cigarette when he hears a familiar voice.

“Seungcheol?”

Despite the drop in his chest at being caught, reflex has him turning to the right. Powered by the familiarity, the softness to his voice.

“Jisoo,” Seungcheol swipes the cigarette from his lips and sees his friend eye it as he flings it to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

Jisoo tilts his head, amused. His eyes curve into friendly moons and Seungcheol feels himself smile at his blunder.

“Right.” He clears his throat, “your office.” He gestures across the road to a towering beast of architecture — glass and metal.

“My office.” Jisoo nods before glancing at the plastic bag hanging from Seungcheol’s hand. “Is that lunch?”

Seungcheol follows his gaze to the cheap sandwich he picked mindlessly off the shelf. He doesn’t even remember what’s in it. “Yeah.” He cringes.

Jisoo lifts his wrist in an elegant movement to eye his watch. “I have forty minutes.” He says. “There’s a really good _galbi-tang_ place nearby.” An invitation. He slants his body in the direction before waiting for Seungcheol’s response.

Both friends stare at each other. The autumn wind dancing between them.

Seungcheol has to bully past his hesitation. He takes a step forward, smile on his face. “Let’s.”

The look of affection that Jisoo shoots him nearly soothes Seungcheol’s nervousness.

Jisoo is right about the _galbi-tang._ The broth is clean but flavourful, and the meat melts right off the bone. Seungcheol almost orders another bowl. He didn’t realise how hungry he was until he actually started eating.

“You didn’t reply my text.” Jisoo lifts his cup of green tea to his lips.

Seungcheol laughs, guilty.

“It’s alright.” His friend smiles. “You look well.”

“I’ve been told otherwise.”

“By Wonwoo, no doubt.”

“He doesn’t spare my feelings.” Seungcheol sniffs indignantly.

Jisoo chuckles in agreement. “He doesn’t.”

Their table quietens — smile on their faces. Empty bowls between them.

Seungcheol reaches for the last pickled radish and before he knows what he’s really doing, he asks, “how is he?”

Jisoo blinks at him and Seungcheol back-pedals immediately. “I mean — um, I just, I don’t —“

“Why don’t you call him?”

It’s gentle, like all things Jisoo.

The pickled radish hovers just slightly off it’s serving saucer, clutched in Seungcheol’s chopsticks. Jisoo’s words ring in his ears. Seungcheol stills for only a second. Then he is pushing the pickled radish into his mouth and laughing like his friend is being ridiculous.

Jisoo doesn’t laugh. He just stares at Seungcheol like he’s always had since they were in university — with a softness that’s sometimes burns more than it soothes.

Seungcheol shakes his head with a smile.

And Jisoo, ever-understanding, drops it.

They part ways just outside Jisoo’s building since Seungcheol insists on walking him back.

“You’re not missing anything important I hope.” His friend frowns with concern. In his hand, a cup of coffee Seungcheol had bought.

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.” Seungcheol waves a hand. “Go on then.”

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah.” Seungcheol nods earnestly, smile on his face. He’s half turned away to leave when Jisoo calls him.

“Cheol?”

“Yeah?” Seungcheol glances over his shoulder.

They lock eyes and in that moment, Seungcheol feels a sadness creep into his chest. It scares him. He doesn’t want it.

“Nothing.” Jisoo shakes his head, “thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

Sweat on his brow.

Sheets bunched in his hands.

The sound of a breath, drawn and ragged. Seungcheol feels a tightness in his belly as he pushes against the body on the bed. It’s smooth — unmarked.

Too smooth. Too soft.

His jaw drops open as he presses his forehead into the slope of a shoulder. A moan, wrung too close to his ear to be comfortable. He stills to gather his senses. It’s easy, since he didn’t lose much of it to begin with.

Seungcheol pulls himself off and mirrors the smile that comes to him. He doesn’t quite hear the words said to him.

He just murmurs, “I’m going to take a shower.”

And that is the end of it.

His muscles feel numb when he showers. The hot water from above soothing only a little. By the time he is finished, there is a quickly put together meal on the table. He stares at it confused before laughing and saying he needs to be back in the office.

* * *

“I bumped into Jisoo.” Seungcheol says into his drink. “On Wednesday.”

Wonwoo signals to the bartender before slipping into the seat next to him. The crowd in this place is a simmering calm. Easy, casual chatter. Even the music leans over more tune than bass. Wonwoo raises his eyebrows.

“I was in his area.” Seungcheol explains, “I forget how close we are sometimes.”

“How is he?” Wonwoo asks.

Although, his question has Seungcheol shooting a knowing look at him before sighing. It’s an unsaid combination of _you already know_ and _really?_

Seungcheol indulges him nonetheless. “He took me to lunch. It was good.”

A pause.

“He looks the same.”

“People don’t change that much in a year.” Wonwoo finds himself saying. “Well, they do, I suppose. But not in a way that is immediately obvious at a glance.”

“Then what way?” Seungcheol turns to him. His eyes, ever earnest, ever kind. Searing to a point that Wonwoo takes a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know.” Wonwoo presses his lips together.

Seungcheol makes a face. His brow scrunches together and his mouth twists so hard it makes Wonwoo laugh. His friend laughs back.

“Maybe dish out the advice when you’re a few drinks in.” Seungcheol points a finger at Wonwoo’s half touched drink.

“Or,” Wonwoo suggests, “maybe, I don’t have advice.”

“Nonsense.” Seungcheol laughs quietly, nose half into his glass. Lips, on the rim.

“You don’t have to come on Sunday, you know.”

Seungcheol flickers his gaze towards him before looking mildly offended. “You invited me! Are you— are you uninviting me?”

The older man blinks. “Is that even allowed?”

“I’m not uninviting you.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes at the sudden display. “I’m just giving you an option.”

“Why do I need options?” Seungcheol asks. Then he adds. “Soonyoung sounded really excited on the phone.”

Wonwoo cannot help the warmth he feels in his chest. Soonyoung did sound a little over the moon. He rattled on about how long it’s been and how everyone will be back together. Wonwoo didn’t quite understand until a few days later.

He called Jisoo just to be sure.

Now that he’s sat next to Seungcheol, the words he had practised saying just won’t come. He looks at his friend. Dashingly handsome, dark raven hair falling over his forehead and a smile that could charm anyone. Loving and affectionate, strong but easily broken.

Wonwoo wish it happened differently. He owes it to Seungcheol to at least push past his own sympathy.

“Hyung,”

“Hm?” Seungcheol tilts his head, half smile on his lips.

“He’s coming home.”

* * *

Friday creeps up on Seungcheol. He’s buried completely in a pile of paperwork that came after a four hour long conference call with the markets and he doesn’t even have time for lunch.

When his secretary rings him, he jams his finger on the receiver and insists she cancel whatever it is she wants to pencil in — but it’s not her voice that comes.

“Let me in.” Casual, satoori.

Seungcheol cranes his neck to peek outside his glass doors to make sure he hasn’t heard wrongly. Then he laughs, signalling to his girl the OK.

Jihoon pushes his way into Seungcheol’s office clad in a full black ensemble; hoodie, tracks, sneakers (not slippers, thank god) and finished off with a cap.

“Aw, you look like shit.” He says.

Seungcheol leans back in his chair and winces. “You and Wonwoo really know how to lay on the love.”

Jihoon grins.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the studio? Bumzu told me about the album you’re working on. The new one, not yours.”

Jihoon nods as he settles himself into the plush, leather couch by the window. “Just some finishing touches. Was in the area so thought I’d come by.”

“Every time you come here, my employees think you’re my illegitimate child.”

Jihoon snorts. “Does that mean I get an allowance.”

Seungcheol barks a laugh. “They don’t know how much you make.”

“And you do?”

“I have a vague idea.” Seungcheol smirks.

“You’re a creepy old man.”

“Did you come here to bully me?”

“Came here to take your ass to lunch. Let’s go.”

Seungcheol huffs a laugh, affectionate and warm. “What is with everyone taking me to lunch lately?”

Jihoon lifts an eyebrow.

“I can’t go, I have a crap ton to do.”

Jihoon shrugs. “OK.” He lifts off the couch and is moving towards the door when Seungcheol feels a strange burst of desperation. Weird, foreign. Completely unexpected.

“Ok let’s go.” He decides, pushing off his chair and leaning to grab his coat.

Jihoon pauses but he doesn’t question. He just watches Seungcheol shrug on his coat and flash him a blinding grin.

* * *

“It’s a pretty big production.” Jihoon nods, “Soonyoung has been at it for months. I hardly ever see him since our times clash.”

“He picks you up though.” Seungcheol reminds him.

Jihoon takes a mouthful of coke and chews at the ice. “Yeah.”

Seungcheol purses his lips. “Don’t do that. It’s bad for you. It makes your teeth sensitive.”

Jihoon drops his gaze to the cigarette packet next to Seungcheol before looking back up at his brother.

“I’m quitting.” Seungcheol clears his throat, cheeks pink.

“I didn’t even know you started.” Jihoon shovels some rice into his mouth. “You know it makes your gym sessions less effective.”

“It’s not a competition.” Seungcheol flicks Jihoon’s forehead.

The younger man jerks backwards and scowls like an angry kitten and Seungcheol just laughs.

“Soonyoung got us good seats. We should probably go a little earlier to beat the crowd.” Jihoon says, scrubbing his forehead with his palm.

“Want me to pick you up?” Seungcheol smiles.

“Aren’t you going with Wonwoo?”

“He’s got Jun.” Seungcheol waves a hand. “And they don’t have to see the choreographer before the show starts.”

Jihoon kicks at Seungcheol’s feet from under the table. The older man chortles.

“Did you prepare flowers?” He asks gently.

“Yeah.” Jihoon’s ears singe red.

“That’s cute.” Seungcheol smiles warmly.

Jihoon flickers his gaze up. “Did you?”

* * *

Saturday is a blur.

Seungcheol spends a good chunk of it at the gym until his muscles burn with ache and until his body sags against the bench press machine.

His eyes are shut as he exhales a long, deep breath.

“Hyung! You finished?”

Seungcheol cracks an eye open to see Mingyu, sweat on his brow and grin on his face — canines and all.

“Yeah.” Seungcheol replies tiredly. “You?”

“Have a few sets to go. You wana wash up first?”

“I’ll wait for you.” Seungcheol leans his head backwards. “Go on.”

“We can get _kimchi jigae_ after?” Mingyu lifts himself up onto the pull up bar and Seungcheol watches all 186 centimetres of him defy gravity.

“Sure.” He agrees.

The night he and Wonwoo were in the bar, Seungcheol didn’t sleep well. He stared at the shadows on his ceiling for hours until sleep reluctantly claimed him. Everything he had pushed down seemed to come bubbling back up.

Bubbling up with nowhere to go.

It felt too soon, too sudden. But at the same time, too slow. The days crawled by and Seungcheol found himself thinking about a laugh — airy and free.

His chests twists in a way that makes him feel nervous. Sick, almost. For all of the waiting he found himself unconsciously doing, now that it is just a day away, Seungcheol cannot help but wish time would pause.

Wait for him.

He doesn’t know.

“Oh?” Mingyu takes a step backwards and follows Seungcheol’s gaze. They’re walking to grab that _kimchi jigae_. It’s just down the street from their gym.

“For Soonyoung hyung?”

Seungcheol stares at the florist. Pink camellias spilling out of the little shop front. The pavement below, painted with petals of various kinds. He stares for so long the aunty inside smiles at him. Seungcheol dips his head at her.

“Jihoon has that covered.” He pats Mingyu on the shoulder and they continue their walk. “You going?”

“I can’t.” Mingyu slumps his shoulders. “I have a shoot. But I’ll come for the after party. Soonyoung loves those. I have to make it up to him.”

“He’ll understand.” Seungcheol assures. Hand in his pocket, pulling out his cigarette pack.

When Seungcheol lights one, Mingyu eyes it but says nothing.

* * *

“See you tomorrow, hyung!” Mingyu waves from outside the car, grin on his face as Seungcheol signals for him to go.

“Maybe.” Seungcheol says as he winds his window back up. “I don’t know if I’ll make it that long into the night.”

“Okay,” Mingyu’s brows slant downwards for a second before he adds, “I’ll see you next week anyway!”

Seungcheol nods and wave at him to _go._ He sits at the drop-off point until he can no longer see the younger guy. Leaning back into his seat, Seungcheol pulls his cigarette packet back out and fingers for a stick.

There’s only one left.

“Just as well.” He murmurs.

Seungcheol hunches over the light and the spark flickers a tiny flame. Burning —

Smoke in his lungs, he closes his eyes and exhales.

* * *

At midnight, Seungcheol finds himself in front of his neighbourhood convenient store. Hands, deep in his track pants pocket and eyes, staring at the artificial glow of the shop.

It’s cold out.

He kicks his heel against the gravel and crosses the threshold from dark to light. The cheap store bell _dings_ his arrival and the cashier by the counter greets him.

Seungcheol dips his head before rounding the corner. He moves in the direction opposite from what he’s come for, but he pretends he doesn’t. He lingers by the ice cream and scans the selection until his eyes land on a strawberry flavoured popsicle.

The taste, already on his lips.

The feeling, different in his chest.

He leaves the store with a fresh pack of cigarettes and a bag of crisps.

* * *

The bench Seungcheol settles on is familiar but coupled with the smoke in his lungs, it is foreign.

He stares at the street lamp for so long a time, his eyes blur. Salt on his tongue. Phone against his ear.

“Seungcheol,” a voice, soft over the line.

“Hi.” He pulls the cigarette from his mouth. “Um — sorry, I know it’s late.”

“It’s okay.” Jisoo is comforting. “What’s up?”

“Will you — are you going tomorrow?” Lump in his throat.

“Yes.” Jisoo is sweet. “Will I be seeing you?” Seungcheol can hear the smile on his lips.

“Is he coming home?” The words fall, slippery.

Over the line, Seungcheol hears Jisoo pause so his heart, hammers.

“Yes.” His friend says. Steady. “He is.”

The cigarette between his fingers burns to the last bit and Seungcheol watches the amber fizzle out.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Jisoo’s voice crackles over the line. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s the crinkling of plastic when Seungcheol pushes his hand into the crisp packet.

A pigeon hops curiously over.

“Cheol?”

“Yeah,” he fumbles, “still here.”

Quiet.

“He didn’t change his number.”

Noise in his ear.

Heart hammering.

Seungcheol flings a chip at the pigeon and it flutters a few inches off the ground in fright before landing and turning a beady eye towards him.

“Oh.” He laughs.

He can already see the look on Jisoo’s face but —

“Have you...” Jisoo’s words fade. Even though Seungcheol won’t say it, he wishes Jisoo would finish. “Are you okay?” His friend asks instead.

“Y-yeah.” Seungcheol blurts quickly. He wipes the crumbs from his fingers on his tracks. “Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“Just taking a walk.” Seungcheol sniffs. “Wanted some fresh air.”

“Mm.”

“Jisoo?”

“Yeah?”

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

* * *

Ringing — ringing — _ringing_

Seungcheol fumbles for his phone and taps at the screen until the call picks up. “Hello?” He groans.

“Hyu— are you _asleep?_ ” Jihoon’s voice raises in disbelief. “It’s five in the evening. _Hyung._ ”

Seungcheol buries his head into his pillow and makes an unintelligible noise. “I’m awake.” He lies.

“We have to be there by six.”

“Got it.” Seungcheol croaks, “pick you up at half past.”

“I can go myself if y—“

“No, no, no.” Seungcheol fights the lethargy in this bones, “I’ll be there. Wait for me.” He promises.

“Okay.” Jihoon says. “Take a shower.”

“God, I _know.”_

The distance from his bed to the bathroom feels decidedly far today. Seungcheol’s shoulders weigh down on him and he pauses to stretch — wincing as he feels his worn muscles pull.

He brushes his teeth through his icy shower. Towel hanging off his hip, he’s half out the bathroom when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His reflection stares back at him as Seungcheol blinks.

It takes an extra five minutes to shave.

“Is there a fucking dress code for this thing?” He shouts at his phone where Wonwoo is on loud speaker.

“Just wear a nice shirt.” His friend replies calmly.

“ _How_ nice a shirt are we talking?” Seungcheol asks back as he pulls three expensive shirts from his closet.

“Tell him to wear the white one with the dark blue accents.” A voice chirps from Wonwoo’s background.

“Jun says to wear the white one with the—“

“I heard!” Seungcheol pulls the exact one described. Then he pauses. “How does he know I have this?”

Jun’s voice is closer and clearer now. “You wore it at the dinner we had for Seokmin’s birthday. It’s nice.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol says.

“It’s 5:20pm.” Wonwoo offers.

“Fuck.” Seungcheol curses as he works the buttons on his shirt. “I gotta go. Catch you later.”

“Jihoon doesn’t like being late.” Wonwoo reminds him.

“I know!”

* * *

Seungcheol pulls up at his brother’s apartment complex at 5:32pm. Jihoon climbs in with a look on his face but he’s dressed very nicely and Seungcheol cannot help but grin.

The flowers he’s prepared almost eclipses Jihoon when he finally pulls it into the car. Seungcheol snorts an endearing laugh as he watches Jihoon battle with the bouquet.

“Give it here.” He takes the flowers and manoeuvres them carefully onto the backseat. “Are you guys competing with your gifts?” Seungcheol raises his brows. “Last time I remember he sent eight cartons of coke to your studio.”

“That was a joke.” Jihoon dismisses.

“You liked it though.” Seungcheol teases as he pulls out onto the road.

The last time Seungcheol went to a showcase, he was late. He had snuck in mid-performance, ducking down low and apology on his lips. A soft hand in his; they shushed each other into their seats.

Jun was performing then.

That was last year.

Now Seungcheol watches Jihoon knock at a door backstage, flowers in hand. The first thing he sees when it pulls open is Soonyoung’s striking head of silver. The widening of eyes, a priceless smile.

From here, he cannot see his brothers’ face but it doesn’t matter since it is for Soonyoung. They don’t quite embrace but Seungcheol catches the soft, lingering brush of hands when Jihoon gives Soonyoung the bouquet.

“We’ll go get seated.” Jihoon jerks his head.

“Okay,” Soonyoung smiles.

Then his gaze flickers to Seungcheol and for a moment, that feeling of guilt rises in his throat.

“ _Hyung_.” Soonyoung’s both hands spread open. Sunshine. He hugs Seungcheol before Seungcheol has time to react. The embrace is warm, firm.

Seungcheol hugs him back despite the feeling in his chest.

They pull apart. Soonyoung is grinning.

“See you out there.” Seungcheol claps a hand on his shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on.” Jihoon says like as if he weren’t the one rushing them here for this exact moment.

Seungcheol laughs.

It is only when they are back out in the seating area that Jihoon says, “thank you.”

“For what?” Seungcheol raises his brows, settling into his seat.

Jihoon’s eyes are to the stage as he shakes his head. “Just because."

Seungcheol flings an arm over his brother and knocks their heads together. “Anything for you.”

Their touch is warm, comforting, and Jihoon’s eyes are earnest when he turns to Seungcheol. “You know that I am here for you, like you are for me. Right?”

Surprise.

Bubbling clumsiness. Seungcheol blinks at his brother. “Of course.” He laughs despite the sudden unease in his chest. A reminder that the time has come —

Jihoon nods. “Good.”

* * *

The theatre fills up quickly. Family, friends, fans.

When Wonwoo and Jun finally show up, Seungcheol finds that his hands are sweaty. He’s been searching the crowd for the past thirty minutes and the exhaustion he felt when he first woke up seems to be crawling back up his neck.

“Hyung, catch!” Jun flings a bag of something that almost smacks Seungcheol in the face. Jihoon catches it easily before handing it over.

“What’s this?” Seungcheol asks mid-surprised laugh.

“Breakfast! Lunch?” Jun tilts his head, “dinner!” He shrugs. “We thought you might be hungry.” The dancer smiles, charming and bright.

Warmth.

“Thanks,” Seungcheol peers into the bag to see a carefully wrapped sandwich and a bottle of juice. His stomach growls at the sight of food. For some reason, he didn’t even remember.

Wonwoo settles down next to him and nudges him with his elbow. _Eat,_ he means.

“What were you up to last night?” Jun leans over Wonwoo, eyes wide and curious. They’re close. Closer than Seungcheol is used to seeing Wonwoo allow people. He remembers what they were like just a year ago.

He smiles. “Gym sessions with Mingyu killing me.”

“It’s the smoking.” Jihoon comments. Seungcheol shoots him a look that he ignores.

“Ah~ I understand. Hao refuses to go.” Jun nods. His chin, bumping against Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Hao prefers walking.” Wonwoo turns to note. Jun agrees. Their noses, almost touching.

Seungcheol watches the display of affection and leans towards Jihoon to whisper, “they’re like cats.”

Jihoon laughs.

“I also prefer walking.” A voice chimes in.

Seungcheol’s heart leaps in his chest and his swerves around to see Jisoo. Alone. His pulse stammers and he lets out the breath he didn’t realise he held.

“Jisoo.” Seungcheol breathes.

“Hey stranger.” His friend smiles, sitting down next to Jihoon.

Seungcheol is still for so long that when he finally inhales and pulls his gaze away, he finds his brother looking straight at him. There were things he told Jihoon, and things that he didn’t need to. All of the things Seungcheol is afraid to say, Jihoon already knows.

“Eat the sandwich.” His brother jerks his head towards the bag in his hands. “You haven’t had anything yet.”

Seungcheol nods.

* * *

Just before the lights dim, a presence familiar and bright makes its way to their row of seats. Seungcheol hears warm greetings and watches embraces. Then he sees the exact moment Seokmin notices him.

For a moment the younger man seems to be lost in emotion. His eyes soften and when he whispers, “ _hyung”,_ Seungcheol feels his heart tug.

Wonwoo lied about people not changing. There’s a maturity to Seokmin that he carries like armour. It’s steady and when Seokmin scoots past everyone to pull Seungcheol into a hug, he thinks Seokmin feels different. He’s grown.

“It’s so good to see you, hyung.” Seokmin says just next to his ear. A single arm around Seungcheol, the hug is awkward but complete. Seungcheol clasps a strong hand over his back. “You too, Seok.”

“It’s starting.” Wonwoo murmurs.

Seokmin gives Seungcheol one last squeeze before pulling away to shimmy past Jihoon and sit next to Jisoo.

The seat that Seungcheol was waiting to be filled, fills.

He flickers his gaze up and when Jisoo looks at him, the lights dim.

* * *

Watching Soonyoung takes Seungcheol back to the very first time he watched him ever dance. In a basement of the dance building at university. He remembers the slightly misted mirrors, the sureness of his steps and the determination in his eyes.

Back then they were different, although most days, they feel the same. Seungcheol thinks they were braver then. Stronger, less afraid.

They spent so much time together than any moment apart felt like a moment so wrong.

Now to see Soonyoung on the stage worked so hard to be at, is both inspiring and terrifying.

How quickly time had passed Seungcheol by. He closed his eyes for just a second but years passed, and then mistakes were made.

They no longer see each other every day. The faces around him have changed in a way Seungcheol can not describe. How much of this was him?

How much of this was that one night last autumn — weight against his side, smoke on his lips and strawberry popsicle on his tongue.

Seungcheol swallows the lump that forms in his throat. The itching to smoke returns and he clenches his fists together.

Lights dancing — electric and wild.

Dancers moving across the stage in a single, cohesive breath. Seungcheol can see Soonyoung in it even when his friend isn’t in the light. It is what he used to talk about in the basement. Here, now and realised.

Seungcheol doesn’t know if the thumping in his chest is pride or fear.

Is he too late?

* * *

There is a standing ovation at the end that lasts for over ten minutes. It includes a lot of hollering and screaming from their row.

Sweat on his brow, Soonyoung shines ever brightly when he takes center stage to bow.

Seungcheol claps so hard his palms sting.

* * *

“It was beautiful.” Jihoon tells Soonyoung when they gather backstage. Jun is chattering excitedly about details he loved and Wonwoo is watching with a smile on his face.

Seungcheol’s arms are folded over his chest when Jisoo steps next to him.

“Come for drinks.” His friend murmurs.

“Ah,” Seungcheol begins to shake his head. “I don’t thin—“

“Come.” Jisoo repeats gently. Firm.

Seungcheol stares at him for an unmoving second and his pulse jumps to a race. Noise in his mind, crackling back to life. He swallows before flickering his gaze at Seokmin. The younger guy presses his lips together in a way that has Seungcheol’s palms sweating once again.

He opens his mouth to say something but no words come. Nobody says what Seungcheol understands but he understands anyway.

* * *

They split up into groups to leave for this bar that Soonyoung booked for the night. All the dancers, crew, friends — for everyone.

Seungcheol is in the carpark, struggling with his lighter as the chilly winds billow against his face. He curses as the light fails once more.

A hand takes the cigarette from his mouth and Seungcheol jerks backwards in surprise.

Wonwoo.

Both friends stare at each other. Seungcheol can see Jun just a little further behind in his peripheral vision. For a moment he thinks Wonwoo is going to fling his cigarette to the floor. But his friend takes the light from his hand, puts the stick between his own lips and lights it for Seungcheol.

The wind whistles between them both but the cigarette flashes amber. Smoke. Wonwoo holds it back out to him.

Seungcheol stares at it unmoving before turning to Jun see his reaction. The dancer has nothing but softness in his eyes. Seungcheol drags his gaze away to glance around the rest of the carpark.

“They’ve left.” Wonwoo says.

“Ah.” Seungcheol coughs an awkward laugh. He takes the cigarette to his lips and inhales.

The three of them lean against Seungcheol’s car until his cigarette burns out.

Before they get in, Seungcheol murmurs a quiet apology.

* * *

Neither of them comment on how Seungcheol takes the long road. He winds around the block with the windows down and Jun puts on a soft song that later rings in Seungcheol’s mind.

They reach about twenty minutes after everyone else.

It’s already packed. The doors, flung open to welcome. Music echoing out into the fresh, evening air. Seungcheol follows after Wonwoo and Jun with his hands deep in his coat pocket.

He has to relinquish the coat just four steps into the place. In exchange, he’s handed a number for safe keeping.

“Thanks.” Seungcheol smiles, slipping the piece of paper into his pocket.

Wonwoo signals towards the bar and Seungcheol nods. Jun is just a little behind but the dancer gets swept up in conversation with other familiar faces. Seungcheol laughs when they apologise for bumping into him.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. There are no longer pockets to bury them into. Wonwoo is a few heads away already so Seungcheol weaves through the crowd after him, smiling and greeting. His eyes, subconsciously darting through the crowd — searching.

Yearning.

His chest feels tighter with every step he takes and suddenly, the bar feels so far away.

“Hyung!”

“ _Cheol_ hyung!”

A voice, crystal clear and cutting through the noise. Prickling in his ear. Seungcheol’s eyes widen as he feels himself turn before he can think.

He means for his eyes to land on Chan. All of his affection, ready to be poured on the boy he hasn’t seen in months but — a flash of blonde.

Heart pounding.

The weight Seungcheol had been feeling for the longest time, lifts when those eyes, glistening and bright, turn towards him.

He can’t even breathe.

All the air in his lungs, rushes out in a single breath.

All the faces around blur and the music, once pounding in his ears, muffle to a soft hum.

Someone bumps into him and Seungcheol stumbles, but his eyes never leave Jeonghan.

The blonde stares at him the same.

Mouth, slightly parted and surprise in his eyes.

“Hyung!” Chan almost shouts in his face. The image of Jeonghan blurs when Chan envelops Seungcheol in a hug.

“Hey, you.” He murmurs, arms wrapping around Chan but eyes, eyes on Jeonghan. His mind is blanking.

This moment — he chased and ran away from all at once. His hands are empty, he has nothing to give.

Now they look at each other like as if it is the first, last time.

Something in Seungcheol’s chest stirs. He wants to move towards him.

Chan releases his hold. “Hyung, how are you? We have to do shots together. Are you working tomorrow?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah let’s do it.” Seungcheol replies, distracted. _Shots?_

Jeonghan’s attention is momentarily stolen by someone whispering something to him. Seungcheol watches the blonde laugh and despite standing so many paces away, he hears it like as if Jeonghan was right next to him — airy and free.

It is exactly like he imagined it to be.

“Really?” Chan beams, “you never agree to this!”

Seungcheol laughs, wincing as he realises what he’s done. He puts a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “Just this once. I don’t like shots.”

Chan’s face scrunches into a grin. “Are you too old for it?”

“Get out of here.” Seungcheol slaps his bottom and Chan barks a laugh before disappearing into the crowd.

Noise in his mind.

Seungcheol turns back to where he had seen Jeonghan before and finds the blonde looking right back at him — half smile on his face.

_People don’t change that much in a year._

Rubbish, Seungcheol thinks. Jeonghan looks more beautiful that all of his memories of him collected together because he is here, and real.

One step.

Please don’t turn away.

Seungcheol takes one after another, pushing past the bubbling guilt in his throat, until he is just a step away from him. It feels nothing like he thought it would.

The words are stuck in his throat, the taste of smoke still on his tongue.

“Hi.” Seungcheol pushes out.

Jeonghan looks at him and Seungcheol sees hesitation in his eyes. It pulls at his heart in a way he thinks he deserves.

“You’re back.” He breathes. “I—“

It doesn’t come. The sentence he hopes to have prepared. The thoughts he wanted to have smoothed out. None of it comes.

He just takes another step towards Jeonghan. Clumsy. Unpracticed.

Around them, people are dancing. Writhing bodies and smiling faces. All, oblivious to the little private space that just formed in the middle of the dance floor.

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. Everything he thinks of sounds pathetic. They sound like excuses. His hands are clammy and his mind is blank.

When Jeonghan takes a small step towards him, blonde hair glowing under the electric light. Seungcheol daren’t close his eyes. “Jeongh—“

Soft against his lips — Seungcheol’s eyes fly open.

_Wait—_

Hands by the side of his face, Jeonghan presses a kiss so mind-numbing to his lips, Seungcheol has to grip his waist to steady himself. His heart thunders in his chest and he clings to the blonde — familiar and foreign all at once.

He can’t even breathe anymore.

Strawberry popsicle on his tongue.

The kiss ends when Jeonghan presses his forehead against Seungcheol, breath fanning.

Seungcheol swallows. The feeling that had been pressing down so fiercely on his chest comes flooding up.

He pulls Jeonghan back, hand lifting to his beautiful blonde hair and for a moment — just one single moment — they are not his mistakes.

Seungcheol steals the taste, revels in the way Jeonghan melts soft against his touch and forgets what he said last year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Feedback is appreciated and savoured.
> 
> Talk to me on [ twt](https://twitter.com/spicychoi) or [ cc](https://curiouscat.me/citrusyghost) ꈍᴗꈍ


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